


A Wish That's Made With Idle Mind

by flora_tyronelle



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Adventures and shenanagins, Camping, F/M, Faerie Magic, MACUSA, Magic, Magical Creatures, Scottish Highlands, The Ministry of Magic - Freeform, canon compliant (so far), first wizarding war, follow up fic, multiple locations, mutual love and support, the Fair Folk
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-01
Updated: 2017-05-07
Packaged: 2018-09-27 17:40:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10036550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flora_tyronelle/pseuds/flora_tyronelle
Summary: It's 1927 and in the wild forests of Scotland a strange creature has appeared, one rumoured to have extraordinary powers. On its tail are: Newt Scamander, eminent magizoologist, Tina Goldstein, respected American Auror, and Gellert Grindelwald, the most feared dark wizard of his time. But the woods hide secrets for all, and wishes cannot always be trusted...





	1. An Unexpected Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for clicking on this story! I'm really grateful you've decided to give this a shot. I would really, really appreciate your feedback- kudos, comments, any and all!
> 
> Let us begin...

Tina Goldstein strode into her office filled with a sense of cool, comforting purpose. It was thirty minutes past seven in the morning; the New York she had crossed was already awake and thrumming with a familiar energy. She shrugged out of her overcoat (it might be March but there was still a chill in the air), unpinned her hat and hung both from the stand in the corner. Only then did she seat herself in the uncomfortable high-backed chair and begin looking through the messages that had come through to her desk in the night.

Whilst most of MACUSA still operated using R.A.T.s (Remotely Activated Transcripts), Tina hated the things- partly due to their instinct for cannibalism, but mostly due to the shape, for she had spent several awful summers sharing a grimy tenement with half of the rodent population of New York and was therefore not overly fond of rats, whether or not they were made of paper- and had expressly forbidden them from her office. Instead, her memos came in the form of thrice folded envelopes, sealed with magical wax. She had a sizeable stack sat on the corner of her desk, and she started each day by reaching for the uppermost missive and slitting it open to peruse the contents.

Of course, her days hadn’t always started like this: her reinstated and elevated position of Auror had only been in place for six months, and it was still a slight shock to her system to walk into the elevator and ask for the fourteenth floor, rather than the dingy basement; to hand her wand to Snoffle the house elf and be greeted with a deferential nod; to meet the eyes of fellow witches and wizards in the corridors and see respect, rather than pity or disgust, in their expressions.

_And it was all thanks to Newt Scamander_.

“No, it was not!” Queenie had scolded her, when the admission had finally slipped out a few weeks ago. “He would never have got anywhere without you!”

Tina could not bring herself to argue with her optimistic, effervescent sister, and had only nodded, trying not to look too miserable. The feeling of indebtedness to the red-headed magizoologist had only grown stronger as time had passed- and perhaps some feelings other than mere _owing_.

Tina gave herself a small shake, and put the first message to one side (a report on the successful apprehension of a wizard who’d been caught confunding no-maj’s in order to sell them pieces of land that were advertised as prime real estate, but were actually sixty feet underwater). She had told herself again and again that there was no point dwelling on Newt Scamander. Perhaps he would come back bearing a copy of his book, but in all likelihood, he would not. After all, he had not even written. There was absolutely nothing she could do about it.

Tina reached for her wand and jabbed the first message, which promptly burst into flames. She was unsure if it made her feel any better, but it was a definite improvement on nothing.

The second message went the same way as the first, as did the third (a decision rejecting the idea of windows in the department, and a list of convictions from the SUSAWC, respectively), until there was a neat mound of ash by her left elbow. Only the fourth missive was spared the same treatment: it contained news of one of her most useful informants, a witch who ran a house of ill-repute out by the docks, who had gone to ground ever since she had given Tina the information that led to the arrest of Dominic Harris. Apparently she’d been spotted by the old brownstones on sixty-ninth. Tina pushed back her chair, stood up, and marched off to see Fitzpatrick.

“Auror Goldstein!” Fitzpatrick always looked torn between delight and fear whenever he caught sight of Tina striding down the hallway towards his desk, an observation that made a squirm of laughter wriggle in Tina’s abdomen. After all, only months ago, Fitzpatrick had outranked her by several leagues; now, however, it was she who gave the orders and demanded the answers. Not only that, but Tina had a discomfiting suspicion that Fitzpatrick rather admired her, which was an impossibility on several levels. She therefore had a tendency to be rather brusque with him, and she was fairly sure that it was this that provoked the notes of apprehension in his expression.

“When did this come in, Fitzpatrick?” Tina placed the note on the desk in front of him. Fitzpatrick seized it and began frantically scanning the enormous list of incoming and outgoing intelligence dispatches that were his domain. As he worked, Tina found herself watching him for a handful of seconds. He was not un-handsome, she supposed, but-

Newt Scamander’s face hovered in her mind’s eye, and she abruptly switched her gaze to the wall behind, tapping her wand against her palm. Fitzpatrick jumped a little.

“Ah- two o clock this morning. From-”

“Upper Eastside, I know.” Tina cut across him. “Do you have anything else?”

“That’s all, Auror Goldstein.”

“Thank you,” She couldn’t quite smile at him, but she managed a nod as she turned on her heel and headed back to her own office. Who would be out on sixty-ninth street at two o clock in the morning?

“Miss Goldstein!” Tina started, and looked down the corridor towards her addressor. At the sight of who it was, her heart and stomach sank together in uncomfortable tandem.

“Miss Goldstein!” Mr Bradley repeated his summons as though she were deaf, or stupid. Stung, Tina straightened up imperceptibly.

“Yes?” She asked, in a way she would never have dared to before. She did not deign to use his name; she had not forgotten the numerous times he had slunk into the basement to needle her with taunts after her demotion from the fourteenth floor.

Bradley’s expression tightened. “You’re wanted in the President’s Office.”

Tina’s heart jumped. There was a brief moment of silence.

“Right,” She said, and, refusing to betray any sign of alarm, walked, stiff-backed, past Bradley and towards the elevators.

She had been in Seraphina Picquery’s office on precisely two occasions- when she had been dismissed as an Auror, and when she had been subsequently reinstated. She had been reduced to tears both times, and whilst her mind ran at a hundred miles a minute as the elevator shot smoothly upwards, she reflected that she would like to make it through one meeting with Madame President without crying. Having a concrete aim made her feel a little better.

They waited outside the polished black doors for several minutes in silence. Tina was not sorry for the lack of conversation; there was very little she wanted to say to Bradley, aside for things that were already unutterable in a public, professional institution. Instead, she tapped her wand against her opposite palm and tried to keep her breathing calm.

“Enter.” The President’s voice finally echoed out into the corridor, and the doors swung smoothly open.

Tina did not look for Bradley’s permission before striding forward. It was perhaps a little petty, but it bolstered her courage. Madame Picquery looked up as they walked in.

“Auror Goldstein. Auror Bradley. I don’t believe you’ve met Lord Wynne.”

Tina turned to look at the man stood beside the President’s desk. He was only an inch taller than she was, and portly, with a bushy brown handlebar moustache and sideburns that belonged to a different century. He was dressed in sober, dark fabrics, and was holding a polished black cane- Tina suspected his wand was concealed in one end.

“Hello,” She said. To her astonishment, Bradley (who had somehow crept up alongside her), swept into a rather elaborate bow.

“My _lord_ ,” He said, in a voice so obsequious Tina was surprised she didn’t gag. Lord Wynne eyed the pair of them for longer than was strictly comfortable, before making an impatient sound in the back of his throat.

“Don’t stand on ceremony, boy. I certainly don’t.”

_English_ , Tina realised, and suddenly she understood quite who Lord Wynne was.

“Indeed,” Madame President said, as Bradley straightened up and tried to look in command of the situation. “In case you were not aware, Lord Wynne is-”

“The British Ambassador,” Tina said, unable to stop herself. Bradley glared at her, and Madam President raised her eyebrows. Lord Wynne, however, only nodded.

“It is an _honour_ -” Bradley once again tried to speak, but was once again cut off, this time by the President.

“Lord Wynne is here on a matter of international importance.” Madam Picquery’s voice was very grave.

Tina suddenly felt as though her insides had decided to ride down the elevator without her.

There was a brief moment of silence, broken only by the soft ticking of a golden clock set into the wall.

“It’s Grindelwald, isn’t it?” Tina asked. The memory of that pale face emerging from beneath the glamour and the cold, calculating gaze that had eyed them all still haunted her. They called him a man- but he’d had the eyes of a snake.

“Yes, Auror Goldstein,” The President said, “It is Grindelwald. He has… disappeared.”

“That’s- impossible!” Bradley spluttered. A chill was spreading down Tina’s spine- her wand shot pale silver sparks as she gripped it a little tighter.

“Not impossible, Mr Bradley,” The President said, tightly. “Improbable, certainly, but it seems our strongest defences could not hold against him.”

“How long has he been gone?” Tina asked. Her voice sounded very soft in the quiet of the room.

“We don’t know.” Madame Picquery met her gaze and Tina felt herself instinctively looking at the floor. “Neither of you have clearance to know the measures we took to imprison Grindelwald, but suffice to say we used every magical protection known to wizard-kind, and some that are rather more secret than that. But-”

“Forgive me, Madame President, but time is wasting.”

Tina tried not to gasp too audibly- she had never heard anybody directly interrupt the President. And yet, apart from the most fleeting spasm of irritation crossing her face, President Picquery gave no indication that this was a deviation from the norm. She inclined her head towards Lord Wynne, as though giving him permission to continue.

“The strength of your enchantments has been made irrelevant. We have three sightings placing Grindelwald in the west of Ireland in the past week- he is clearly no longer in your custody.” The rebuke in his last was strong enough for all of them to hear it.

“A _week_?” Tina could not believe it. Bradley coughed, as though she had stepped out of her place, and Tina would have dearly loved to hex his tongue into a knot- as it was, she bit her lip and clenched her fist tighter around her wand.

“Yes, Miss Goldstein.”

Tina was not insensitive to the President dropping her official title, and she was not foolish enough to venture anything further. Inside, though, she seethed. The President continued as though Tina had not interrupted.

“Grindelwald escaped, we believe, ten days ago, and made his way to Ireland aboard a no-maj vessel.”

Unbidden, the image of Newt climbing the gangplank onto the steamer floated into Tina’s mind, and she batted it away.

“My Lord… You’ve had _three_ sightings of him,” Bradley seemed entertainingly caught between the rock of President Picquery and the hard place of Lord Wynne, and Tina thought that were the situation not so dire, she would have enjoyed watching him squirm. “Surely you must be close to apprehending him?”

“You think Grindelwald politely waits for our Aurors to turn up? Holds out his hands for the cuffs?” Lord Wynne snorts. “Never mind that our jurisdiction in Ireland is flimsy at best. The man can apparate, in case you’d forgotten. Ireland today, the continent tomorrow… It’s like tracking a shadow.”

“Is he trying to rejoin his followers?” Bradley asked. In Tina’s opinion, it was the first useful thing he’d said this whole time.

“We don’t know.” Lord Wynne looked back to Madame Picquery. She continued.

“We have no idea what he’s planning. His recapture is of the greatest importance. The European Confederacy are leading the effort, but I have agreed,” Tina got the distinct impression that the President was choosing her words with utmost care, “To provide two Aurors to assist them however they require. Bradley will remain here, assisting me in determining how Grindelwald was able to escape. Goldstein, you will be on detachment to the Ministry of Magic in England.”

Tina held herself very still. Her heart rattled in her chest.

“ _England_ , Madame President?”

Suddenly, she was afraid that she had done some wrong, and this was her punishment. Expulsion across the ocean; away from her sister, away from her work, away from her _home_.

“Yes. I believe I made myself clear.” The President didn’t even deign to look at her. Tina swallowed, hard.

“I understand, Madame President.”

“Good. Lord Wynne will arrange transportation to England for you tomorrow. I hope you understand that as a representative of MACUSA, I expect nothing less than your best work.”

It was not a question. Tina nodded.

The President folded her hands on the desk in front of her.

“Very few people are privy to the knowledge of Grindelwald’s escape. See that it remains that way. The consequences, should you not, will be dire. Goldstein, you are dismissed.”

Tina nodded again, sharply, and did as she was told.

This time, she managed to hold her tears in all the way to the elevator. It was, at least, an improvement.

She hid in the lavatory on the twelfth floor to cry, then sniffed, swiped her eyes one final time, and marched back into the corridor. Her head was thrumming.

“Fourth floor,” She told the attendant, her voice steady, and she kept her gaze fixed on a spot on the wall as they glided downwards. Already, her mind was prioritising, organising, categorising: making what sense it could of the impossible situation she now found herself in. She would need to pack, and they would have to make arrangements for the rent…

She stepped out as soon as the sliding grill permitted her, and swept down the corridor, impervious to the curious glances of her colleagues. She was a little afraid of what she was about to do- it had been expressly forbidden, but Tina knew that she could not live with herself if she did not, and she had made such a choice before. She had the strength to do it.

Queenie was sat in her cubicle, hair teased in a golden halo around her head, a look of concentration on her beautiful face. She looked up as Tina drew near, and broke into a smile.

“Hello, stranger!”

Tina glanced around before swiftly ducking down, out of sight of anyone walking past. Queenie’s expression clouded over, and Tina met her bright blue eyes without hesitation. They both knew it made things easiest for Queenie to hear. Tina simply braced herself for the blow.

It took only an instant. Queenie’s look of horror was no more than Tina had expected, but that did not make it easier to bear, her hand flying to her mouth; the other reaching out for Tina.

“Oh, Teenie…” She whispered, and Tina quickly leaned further down to hug her, thinking as much as she could of reassurance and love and comfort, despite how their pending separation weighed on her. Tina could not remember a day that had gone by without her making at least some sort of contact with her younger sister. She involuntarily clutched her tighter.

“It’s so dangerous!” Queenie breathed, so quietly that Tina could barely hear her. She was glad her face was hidden as she replied. It made it easier to lie.

“I’ll be fine.” She stood up again, chewing on the inside of her lip. “I’ll- I’ll see you later.”

And she walked away before her sister could say another word- because Tina knew that one word would be all it took to make her stay. Instead, she headed back to her office. There were things to be put in order.

 

Tina boarded the ship just as the sun was struggling to surface above the high-rise buildings behind her, case clutched in one hand, ticket in the other. Queenie could not come to see her off- it would have raised questions, if somebody had seen them- so Tina had said her goodbyes in the front room of their little apartment, then stepped forward into nothingness, crying, yet again. She had permitted herself tears today. She felt she deserved them. So she left New York in a blur, turning her face to the open sea beyond, and sobbed as the wind tore at her coat and passengers jostled around her.

But after a while, she pulled herself together, and went below. They would dock at London in three days’ time. She had a great deal to prepare.

 

The rest of the journey passed without incident. Tina kept to herself, only emerging from her cabin when physical necessities had to be met. The rest of the time, she read through the enormous file Lord Wynne and entrusted to her, worried about Queenie, and, occasionally (very occasionally), thought of Newt and wondered where, precisely, in England he might be found. She never gave those musings much credence, though- if he had wanted to find her, he would have done so before. He could at least have written. And anyway, she had a job to do. One that had no bearing on magizoologists, contactable or otherwise.

 

London crept up on them, sneaking up to the riverbanks and peeping over the edge as the gigantic ship muscled her way into the mooring, greeted by the shouts and sounds of a city in full swing. Tina peered over the railing, excited despite herself, and tried to drink it all in.

They disembarked in a great rush of crowd, pouring through the customs building and spilling out into the streets beyond. Even the smell of London was different to New York, Tina thought, as she stood and stared. Everything was different here.

She had been told to wait for someone from the Ministry to come and collect her, so she stayed put and listened to the babble of harsh accents and watched the stream of men in suit jackets and flat caps flow past. She became so absorbed that when a small hand came to rest on her elbow she started and whipped around.

“Sorry, Miss. Didn’t mean to startle you.”

A small woman with conker-brown skin was stood in front of her, a purple peaked cap perched atop her curly hair. She smiled widely at Tina.

“Are you Miss Goldstein?”

Tina eyed her warily.

“Who are you?”

“Oh, sorry!” The woman laughed, reaching up to better seat her hat. “I’m Collette Jones. I work for Selwyn. Vincent Selwyn?”

“Oh!” Tina suddenly understood, and felt mildly embarrassed. “Yes. I am Auror Goldstein.”

“It’s a pleasure, Miss Goldstein.” Miss Jones dimpled at her again. “Shall we go?”

They hurried down the sidewalk, dodging barrows and pedestrians alike.

“Miss Jones, where are we going?” Tina asked. “I thought we’d apparate straight to the Ministry.”

“Oh, no!” Miss Jones waved an airy hand and stepped neatly around a gang of wrestling children. “You can’t get there like that. We’ll take the tram, it’s much quicker- and call me Collette. Everyone does.”

Tina did not know what to say to that, so she simply concentrated on where she was putting her feet.

They rode the tram through the chaotic streets, seated on the top deck with the heavy air tugging at their coats. Miss Jones- _Collette_ \- pointed out landmarks as they passed by, and Tina tried to remember them, but knew that they wouldn’t stick in her head. She was too wound up, too tired, too thrilled by travel and apprehension to pay enough attention. Collette did not seem to mind. When they reached the right stop, she carried Tina’s case, and together they climbed down the steep stairs and hopped off the end platform.

“This way!” Collette trilled, and strode off down a narrow street lined with shop fronts. Tina followed on her heels, feeling for the reassuring weight of her wand, as they wound deeper into what felt like a labyrinth of narrow alleyways and back streets. Eventually, Collette stopped in front of a red, glass-panelled kiosk; Tina could make out some kind of no-maj machinery inside.

“Go on, then.” Collette waved her forward, and Tina frowned.

“In _here_?” She asked.

Collette nodded. Feeling suspicious, Tina cautiously pushed open the door of the kiosk and stepped inside, and was immediately jostled by Collette cramming into the small space behind her. The door swung shut.

“Collette Jones, escorting Auror Porpentina Goldstein to her meeting with Head of the Auror Office, Vincent Selwyn.” Collette rattled all of this off very quickly, and the machinery behind Tina made a clunking noise.

“Welcome to the Ministry of Magic, Auror Goldstein.” A disembodied female voice echoed through the cramped space, and Tina started. “Please attach the badge provided to your clothing. Have a pleasant day.” The machine spat out a small broach- when Tina picked it up, she saw it read _Porpentina Goldstein, Auror_.

“My friend Irene did the voice,” Collette said, as Tina clumsily pinned the badge to her breast pocket. “Good, isn’t it?”

“Nothing like MACUSA,” Tina acknowledged, in a voice that was rather more wistful than she would have liked; but she was saved any embarrassment by the floor jolting suddenly, and beginning to sink slowly into the earth. Tina looked frantically around. “Won’t the no-maj’s notice?”

“Don’t worry about them,” Collette said breezily, “There are muggle-repelling charms on every inch of the Ministry. They don’t even know we’re here.”

It certainly seemed that way- not one passerby on the busy street outside seemed at all concerned as Tina and Collette were swallowed by the sidewalk.

They were in darkness for a brief moment, before a chink of light appeared at ankle-height as the box descended. Then, all of sudden, they had emerged into a vast underground chamber and Tina couldn’t quite keep her mouth from falling open.

Ornate, overwhelming grandeur pressed in from all sides: the floor was black marble, the light came from thousands of candles bracketed to the walls and hovering unsupported overhead. Puffs of green flame flared from a row of enormous fire places, spitting witches and wizards out into the central thoroughfare. The central area was dominated by a towering golden statue of a wizard with a noble, yet somehow generic face, wearing traditional robes and holding his wand out in the face of some unseen foe. Behind him, over the arched entrance to the building beyond, were huge curling letters: _The Ministry Of Magic_. The overall effect was simultaneously jarring and breath taking.

Tina turned to find Collette beaming at her (if Tina were feeling uncharitable, she might have thought her expression a little smug, but she was too amazed for that).

“If you’ll follow me, Auror Goldstein.” Collette pushed open the door and hopped out. Tina shook her head, pulled herself together, and followed.

“Before they’ll let you into the Auror Office, you’ll have to get your wand checked,” Collette explained, as they walked across the antechamber towards a straggling queue of people, “New procedure.”

Tina couldn’t help craning her neck in every direction as they waited, feeling eerily similar to the first time she’d walked through the doors of MACUSA almost seven years ago. Collette seemed to understand that she wanted time to take it in, and refrained from her usual chatter, and eventually they gained the small polished desk. The wizened old man seated behind it held out his hand in a cursory fashion.

“Wand, please, Miss.”

Tina offered her wand with only the slightest pang of reluctance, and watched closely as he weighed it on a delicate pair of brass scales, then passed it from hand to hand, scrutinising it from every angle.

“Ash and unicorn hair, twelve and a half inches,” The wizard murmured. “You may have it back now.”

Tina stowed it safely back in her sleeve as a quill began writing down the details on a long ink-splattered ledger and Collette turned to go. Together, they passed under the arch and into the Ministry proper, Tina trying not to obviously crane her neck. To her surprise, there were owls swooping above the heads of the throng, fluttering into the banks of elevators against the far wall. Collette dashed forward and gained the furthest one just before the grill slid closed, and Tina jumped in after her, muttering apologies to the floor. Besides the gentle rustling of the owls on the perches overhead, there was total silence. The elevator jolted, then smoothly began to ascend.

The Auror Office was decidedly not what Tina had expected. For one thing, none of them had cubicles, never mind private offices: they all sat at desks ranged around the room, or clustered around maps spread across the walls. For another, the entire floor was lit not by the soft glow of candlelight, but by actual daylight, streaming in through wide windows.

“Magical Maintenance look after them,” Collette said, noticing Tina’s questioning look. “I think the Minister thinks it’s a bit frivolous, but we like it. Selwyn sits over here-” And she motioned Tina towards the top corner of the room, where a large empty desk sat in front of a map of Europe. As they drew closer, Tina noted that it was covered in tiny glowing symbols, some of which seemed to be in motion.

“I’m sure he’ll be back in a moment,” Collette smiled. “Let me get you a chair.”

A chair? Tina wondered. Clearly they did things differently here. At MACUSA, you never sat in the presence of a superior.

All the same, she found herself seated on a rickety wooden stool when Vincent Selwyn, Head of the Auror Office, came bustling back to his desk.

“Auror Goldstein, I presume?” He asked. He was tall and gangly and wearing a monocle on one eye, a black patch on the other. His hair had gone all to grey. Tina fought the urge to jump to her feet; there was something commanding about the man.

“Yes, sir.”

After a moment of being appraised, Selwyn stuck out his right hand. Tina, after the briefest of hesitations, took it, and Selwyn nodded briskly.

“You’ll do. Wynne explain everything to you?”

“Yes. Uh, sir.”

“Good. This way. You’ll meet the others, I haven’t got time to nanny you.”

Tina bristled at that, but Selwyn was already striding away. Collette, who’d been hovering nearby, darted back up to Tina and pulled a small face.

“He’s a little brusque,” She whispered, diplomatically, “But don’t worry about him. I’ll have your case sent to your lodgings?”

“Thank you,” Tina had time to say, before she was forced to walk a little quicker to keep up with Selwyn’s long strides.

“Gentlemen, ladies.” Selwyn called, over the gentle hubbub of a small cluster of tables. “This is Auror Goldstein. She’s on detachment with us from MACUSA for the immediate future.” They all fell silent. Selwyn gave a brisk nod. “Carry on.”

He marched away.

Tina stared around at the unfamiliar faces and forced herself to straighten up.

“Hello,” She said.

There was a brief silence.

“So, you’re our American friend?” A young man who was standing to her left looked her up and down. It was not an entirely respectful gesture. Tina held her ground.

“I’m American, yes,” She said, eventually, “And we’ll have to see about the friend part.”

Sniggers chased their way around the general vicinity; Tina had not intended it that way, but she wouldn’t back down now.

“Oh, ignore him,” A matronly woman eventually said, laying down her quill. “I’m Auror McVicar, this is Auror Stanhope, Auror Watson, Auror Roberts and Auror Bowers.” She pointed around the assembled witches and wizards. Tina judged that some of them were rather more aligned with Auror Roberts (who had first spoken), and there was a hint of derisiveness in the way they looked at her.

“You can sit here, by me,” Auror McVicar continued, “I’ll talk you through your duties. And Miss Jones will find you all the equipment you need.”

 

Tina, on the whole, was not sorry to leave the Ministry that evening. Her new colleagues were a mixed bunch to be sure- squat, broad-shouldered Bowers who clung to McVicar like a shadow, Stanhope, who snorted when she laughed, and Watson and Rogers who were like two sides of the same bad cent- but it wasn’t just them. She had spent the rest of her day reading through intelligence transcripts and studying maps- not work she considered beneath her, but the snide glances from Bowers and Roberts had been enough to sorely test her patience. She was far from home, exhausted from travel and missing her sister like a phantom limb. Nonetheless, she did not quit; only when the sunshine had faded entirely from the windows and the night shift had begun to come in around her did she gather up her coat and hat. Collette had explained the vagaries of the British floo network to her, and, compared with the day she’d had, stepping into the emerald flames seemed nothing more than a minor inconvenience. All she wanted was the comfort of a soft bed and to be rid of the feeling of hostile eyes on her whenever she turned her back.

Thankfully, the Leaky Cauldron provided both of those things. Tina ate a swift supper in a quiet corner of a bar then hurried up to her room, changed into her night-things (her case was there, just as Collette had promised) and fell onto the mattress with barely another thought in her head. Unfortunately, her bliss was short-lived. In what seemed like no time at all, there was a sharp knock on the door and Tina blearily opened her eyes to grey light and an unfamiliar ceiling.

“Auror Goldstein!” A voice called through the door. “Urgent summons from the Ministry!”

Tina was instantly awake.

“Understood!” She replied, leapt from the bed and dashed to the lavatory. In barely two minutes, she was refreshed, dressed, and pulling open the door to find a tiny young man peering up at her.

“Tom, the barman,” He said, in a surprisingly deep voice, “Owl’s just come for you, I’ve got the floo network ready.”

Tina thanked him and followed him down into the front room, empty besides a few brushes who were sweeping flagstones apparently of their own accord. Tom tossed the powder into the roaring flames for her, and moved aside: Tina stepped forwards, and, with barely a quiver, announced, “The Ministry of Magic!”

Unlike the Leaky Cauldron, the Ministry was already awake (or perhaps had simply not slept), witches and wizards hustling hither and thither across the black marble. Tina brushed the ash from her coat, climbed over the grate and marched towards the elevators.

She didn’t even make it to the Auror Office- the elevator stopped on the second floor and a breathless looking Collette jumped in. Tina was surprised by how pleased she was to see her.

“Miss- Auror Goldstein! I’ve been looking all over- you have a briefing with the Minister and Auror Selwyn in ten minutes, I was worried you’d already gone up to the office-”

“The Minister?” Tina asked, frowning at her.

“Yes, Minister Kite. His office is on the first floor-” At her words, the lift (unoccupied except by them and a pair of disgruntled screech owls) abruptly reversed direction and began to descend, which only added to the discomfort in Tina’s stomach, “- And he’ll be intrigued by you, he’s got a- ah, _interesting_ relationship with your President-”

“How do you know all this?” Tina asked, reminding herself that chewing her lip was a nervous habit and one that she’d outgrown, anyway. Collette, to Tina’s astonishment, winked.

“I might be only a secretary, but I keep my ears open.”

The elevator stopped smoothly, the grill rattling open to reveal a plush, carpeted corridor.

“He’s the first door on the left.” Collette gave Tina a small push on the elbow. “Can’t miss it.”

“I-” Tina began, but Collette was already waving her onward. She stepped out of the elevator and watched as Collette shot out of sight. Then she took a deep breath, and started walking.

_First door on the left_ , and _Minister Kite_ kept running through her head. She wondered what could possibly have happened, but before she could consider too many options a great mahogany door loomed on her left and she could no longer concentrate.

Tina was not an indecisive person, but she remained outside the Minister for Magic’s door for perhaps ten seconds, debating how and whether to make her presence felt. Just before she could raise her hand to knock, however, the door swung open without any prompting, revealing the space beyond and a small group of people, not all of whom looked around in a friendly manner.

“Ah. Auror Goldstein.” Auror Selwyn said, sharply. “No need to dither on the doorstep all day.”

Tina was quite sure that whilst the other Aurors did not dare to laugh openly, they dearly wished to. She swallowed and hurried over the threshold, hoping she had not flushed red.

“So, this is Auror Goldstein?”

Tina looked up to meet the muddy green eyes of the Minister for Magic. He was sat behind a vast polished desk, so she could not tell his height, but he was slender, with a shock of white hair, ghostly pale skin and an enormous handlebar moustache. As Collette had warned, he seemed to be appraising her with keen interest.

“Yes, Minister.” It was Selwyn who answered for her, with an air of impatience in his voice. “If we can return to the matter at hand-”

“New Yorker, are you?” The Minister completely ignored him, peering instead at Tina as though she was an interesting specimen in a glass case.

“Yes. Minister.”

“And studied at Ilvermorny, I suppose?”

Tina just nodded. She did not like the feeling of being scrutinised by this man.

“I see. Not as good as Hogwarts, but it has its place. MACUSA has turned out some notable Aurors, after all.”

Tina was very glad her wand was hidden up her sleeve- if she’d been carrying it, she was fairly certain red sparks would have burst from the tip at the Minister’s words. Rage and indignation burned inside her at the snub; but she was forced to bow her head politely and act as though the words had no effect on her. _The other Aurors would love that_ , she thought, viciously, and that gave her the strength to focus again.

“Quite so, Minister, but time is wasting.” Selwyn’s voice was taut with suppressed irritation, and Tina took savage delight in it. “All I require is your permission to despatch this task force of Aurors.”

Minister Kite waved an amenable hand.

“You have it. Keep an eye on the American, won’t you, boys?” He addressed the last to Roberts, Bowers and Watson, who smirked. “Dismissed.”

They filed out of the office, Selwyn in the lead. Tina, thankfully, found herself walking besides McVicar- one questioning look was all it took.

“Grindelwald’s been sighted,” The older woman muttered, voice low, “Scotland, up in the mountains. Not giant country, as far as we can tell. We’re disapparating as soon as Auror Selwyn signs us off.”

Tina’s heart leapt- half in fear, half in exhilaration. It was a familiar sensation. She almost relished it; the anticipation of action always made her feel more alive, and she had been feeling a severe shortage of that lately.

“How long ago?” She asked, as they crammed into the elevator.

“A little over an hour. They think he’s still in the area.”

“Silence, McVicar.” Selwyn’s voice cracked like a whip, and the silence that followed echoed a little in the enclosed space. Tina stared at her shoes, emotions whirling through her. _Grindelwald_. This could be her chance.

They were ready to leave ten minutes later, dressed in plain no-maj clothing, wands raised in their hands.

“Good luck,” Selwyn told them briskly. “Try not to get yourselves killed. Listen to McVicar. On my mark.”

He raised his hand, and Tina thought, as hard as she could, of the Black Wood of Rannoch.

“Three! Two! One!”

She braced herself, stepped forward, and committed herself to the unknown.


	2. A Stranger On The Shore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Black Woods of Rannoch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the lovely feedback you left on the first chapter! I've managed to crack on with this one, but don't get used to having updates this regularly haha.
> 
> This chapter is a bit shorter than the last one, but plenty of Plot. Enjoy!

In Tina’s opinion, whoever had named the Black Wood of Rannoch had done a pretty poor job. As soon as she had fully materialised, she spun around, scanning every inch of her surroundings- her very _green_ surroundings. Very wet, too- the rain was coming down with a degree of intent, and Tina frowned in irritation. The only things that moved were her fellow Aurors, black shapes in their dark clothing, and the rain. The rest was silent under a blanket of verdant, sodden moss. Not a branch waved; not a bird called. If Tina were not naturally suspicious, she would have thought it peaceful. As it was, the sheer stillness of the place rattled her nerves.

“All present?” Came the soft call from McVicar, who was furthest from Tina and had the same expression of wariness Tina felt.

“Bowers.”

“Stanhope.”

“Watson.”

“Rogers.”

“Goldstein.”

Their replies sounded like shouts, although they were speaking only just loud enough to be heard. Tina gripped her wand very tightly.

“Anyone have eyes on?”

They all answered the negative, and McVicar seemed to relax slightly. She lifted her free hand to shoulder-height, and gave the verbal order. “Fall in.”

They used the same formations they used back at MACUSA- two Aurors at twelve and six, two casting protective charms around the edge and one in the middle, acting as an extra lookout. Tina automatically stepped to six, and got a filthy look from Watson as he passed. However, their enchantments were in place within thirty seconds, and McVicar motioned them to the centre.

“We need to spread out and search the area,” She said. The rain had stuck her auburn hair to her forehead. “Rogers, Watson, Stanhope, together. Head north, towards the loch. Goldstein and Bowers, with me. Red sparks if you get into trouble. Blue if you see him. Green if you apprehend him. If we haven’t found anything within three hours, I’ll send up orange sparks and we’ll rendezvous before apparating back to the Ministry. Understood?”

It was. They removed the protective spells and split up, turning their backs on one another and heading further into the woods.

They walked south, never straying out of sight of each other. They were all soaked within minutes; Tina’s feet were damp as she squelched softly across the spongy ground. She hardly noticed. All her attention was on her wand, and her surroundings, and where McVicar and Bowers were. The forest remained sinisterly, eerily silent. Their footsteps were the only sound.

“McVicar!” Tina wasn’t sure how long they’d been walking for when Bowers shouted. She jerked to a halt, and lifted her wand higher. She knew to hold her position until she was summoned, too; she stared around, keeping Bowers and McVicar in the corner of her eye. They were having a murmured conversation, but she couldn’t pick out their words from where she was standing.

“Goldstein!” McVicar finally called her over, and Tina gladly hurried to where Bowers was crouched. It was immediately clear what had caught their attention- there was the partial, smeared mark of a shoe in a patch of mud just beyond Bower’s square fingernails. Tina felt a shiver wriggle down her spine.

“Is that-?”

She never finished her question.

From over McVicar’s shoulder, there was a triumphant shout, and there was nothing any of them could do-

“ _Avada_ _Kedavra_!”

McVicar crumpled forwards; Tina did not even think to scream. Her mind was pure horror. Then, as she looked up and caught a flash of gold amongst the trees, it dissolved into rage. She didn’t hesitate- she stood bolt upright, pointed her wand, and thought, _Immobilus_! But Grindelwald darted away. Bowers was stood beside her now, and together they flung curses into the trees, and dodged or blocked the jets of green light that came shooting back. Tina’s heart was drumming against her ribs, and she was filled with that strange clarity that only ever came in a fight, as though combat crystallised her thoughts, making her decisions as quick as the crack of a whip.

“Stand and fight!” Bowers screamed, as yet another curse sailed past, missing them both by inches. “You _coward_!”

Tina could not find the breath to shout- all her energy was going into her spells and her aim, but rage was burning hot in her stomach. Thoughts of Credence, and Newt, and Graves all swirled through her head. Every glimpse of Grindelwald only fed the flames.

“McVicar?!” There was a shout, a little ways off, and Tina recognised Stanhope’s voice.

“Here!” She yelled, “Here, we have eyes on-” Bowers shoved her hard in the shoulder, making the killing curse Grindelwald had just cast fly straight above her, rather than hitting her in the heart. Tina was on the ground, winded- but there was the sound of breaking branches and trampled undergrowth as the others changed course and headed towards them.

Grindelwald was suddenly, shockingly, still, poised between the boles of two towering trees. Through the faint haze of a powerful shield charm, his bright eyes glittered. His handsome face was just as cold, just as cruel, as when he had been unmasked all those months ago- only, now, he looked somehow wilder, a little less controlled. Bowers flung jinx after jinx at him, and all were turned imperviously aside. Tina stared back at him, her heart beating in her throat.

“Position?” Another shout broke across the tableau; Watson, Tina thought.

“Combative situation!” Bowers yelled back- and Grindelwald’s mask cracked. There was a flash of white teeth as he snarled in fury; and in an instant, he had vanished.

Tina, quietly, yet violently, swore.

“What happened?” Rogers came dashing through the trees. Tina, still sprawled on the ground, turned her head. McVicar was still lying there, face down. The sight was like cold water to her face.

“Grindelwald,” Bowers spat the word- but then she turned towards McVicar, and the fury seemed to drop away from her broad shoulders. “He- we didn’t even see him coming.”

Tina just hung her head, letting her breathing recover. In the corner of her vision, she could see the grey fabric of McVicar’s coat. The older Auror’s hair had come down from its severe bun, and lay limp over one shoulder. Tina’s gut squeezed, sharply, as Grindelwald’s words echoed, once again, in her ears.

“McVicar?” There were footsteps, and Watson crouched beside her. Beside the body.

“She’s- she’s dead, Arthur.” Bowers spoke the words as though she were not sure of them herself, as though saying them would not make it any more true. “He killed her first.”

There was silence. Tina felt a hollowness begin to bloom in her chest. Rogers and Watson bowed their heads.

Minutes might have passed before Bowers broke the quiet.

“Goldstein, are you injured?” Her previous hostility seemed to have faded, as though the greater grief had blotted it out. Tina just shook her head. Bowers offered her a hand, and Tina took it, allowing herself to be pulled to her feet.

“This _never_ should have happened,” Rogers said, angrily. “Why weren’t you on lookout?”

It took a few seconds for Tina to realise the question had been directed at her.

“Because she summoned me over.” It did not occur to her to say anything else.

“Used accio, did she?” Watson sneered.

“No, I-”

“Oh, leave it,” Bowers snapped. “Goldstein had my back during that duel.”

Watson and Rogers shared a quick look, and had Tina not been so numb, she would have felt her stomach sink.

“We need to take the- the body back.” Stanhope’s voice barely trembled. “We can’t leave her here.”

“Nor should we,” Rogers said, grimly. “Bowers, take her back to Saint Mungos. They’ll be able to- to take care of all the necessaries.”

Bowers did not immediately move.

“What about the rest of you?”

“We’re going after Grindelwald.” Rogers said it as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. Disconnected as she was, Tina began to get a distinctly bad feeling about this.

“But he apparated-” Bowers tried once more to argue, but Rogers interrupted her, his face abruptly shifting to an expression of fury.

“We’re in pursuit of the most dangerous fugitive in Europe, we don’t have time for this! I’m most senior after McVicar, and you’re _this_ close to disobeying a direct order, Bowers.”

For a brief moment, Tina wondered if Bowers was going to refuse. But the moment passed, and Bowers dropped her gaze. Tina was surprised that the tiny woman could lift McVicar by herself, but she did so without apparent effort, cradling her superior in her arms with all the tenderness of a parent carrying a child. The rain had finally begun to ease off, although it was still possible to pretend the clouds were to blame for the moisture on Bowers’ ruddy face. A light mist was forming in the still air. McVicar’s head lolled backwards. None of them spoke.

Bowers and McVicar vanished in the moments between one blink and the next. In the empty space, there was only silence and a faint impression on the moss.

“Grindelwald apparated from over there,” Tina said, eventually. Her voice was remarkably steady. This was only the second time a colleague had died in front of her; that first time she had reacted the same, by pressing forwards. It was how she had dealt with Credence’s death, too. Pushing on. She brushed her coat down with a quick movement, got to her feet, and readjusted her grip on her wand.

“Fascinating, Goldstein,” Watson snapped. “And unless you have some way of tracking him, that fact is about as useful to us as a cauldron made of cheese.”

Tina gritted her teeth, and drew in a deep, deep breath.

“Actually,” She said, and the word still came out a little sharp, but _really_ , “We can track him. I did it a few times with MACUSA.”

She doesn’t add that they were only successful on one occasion, and that three of their Aurors were splinched within two seconds. They don’t have an alternative- or, at least, they don’t have an alternative that Rogers will agree to. He glares at her now.

“You expect us to believe that?” He sneers, and Tina’s patience, worn thin by adrenaline and horror, snaps clean in two.

“You know what? I don’t really care either way if you do or don’t. I came here with a job to do, and I’m damn well going to do it!”

There was a slightly shocked silence. Rogers looked as though he’d been slapped round the face with a wet fish.

Tina resisted the mad urge to laugh.

“Anyway,” She said, in her normal tone, “We’re wasting time.”

Her question hung, unasked, in the damp air.

“Rogers-” Stanhope began, but Rogers silenced her with a glare.

“How does this apparition trick work, then?” He asked, suspicion colouring every syllable. “Seems odd that the Americans wouldn’t share that kind of thing with their closest allies.”

Tina could not help but roll her eyes. _Closest allies_ , what hogwash. Regardless, she only said, “It’s highly experimental. And dangerous. The risk of splinching is-” Tina hesitated, then carried on. In for a goblet, in for a cauldron. “- High.”

Watson frowned. Stanhope was watching Tina like she had grown wings. Rogers’ face appeared to have been transfigured into granite.

“And it gets harder the longer you leave it,” Tina pointed out, when it seemed a decision was not forthcoming, her voice growing tighter.

For a brief, horrible, moment, Tina thought Rogers was going to do something drastic. His wand twitched in his hand, and Tina froze- but then the fleeting tension was gone.

“Very well,” He barked. “You may try this, _invention_ , Goldstein. We don’t have anything else to go on.”

Tina gave him a short nod that gave no indication of her internal anger, and turned her backs on them.

“How does it work?” Stanhope asked, as Tina began carefully drawing the tip of her wand through the air that Grindelwald had last occupied.

“The theory is that apparition leaves magical traces,” Tina said, absently, “As a witch or wizard moves through space. You can detect them, if you know what you’re looking for.”

Rogers gave a very derisive snort. Tina ignored him. This sort of magic was very subtle, and almost beyond her- it took every ounce of her concentration. Indeed, she lost track of time as she searched for the minute clues that whispered of Grindelwald’s magical passage, her mind descending to a state that was almost totally blank, numb of thought, utterly focussed on reception. But then something- _tugged_ ; a snag in the fabric she was blindly feeling across. Her eyes flew open.

“Have you found something?” Stanhope asked, and Tina was pleased to note the interest in her voice, even as her heart began to pound.

“Yes,” She said, barely even breathing. “All of you, hold onto my free arm. _Now_.” She added, when they seemed disinclined to move.

Still, they hovered behind her. Tina could only spare half of her mental energy for the whispered conversation going on over her shoulder; keeping one ‘finger’ on the tear took up most of her attention. Occasional words drifted to her, but she couldn’t make sense of them. Until, finally, a hand landed heavy on her shoulder. Another snared around her elbow. A third secured her other shoulder.

“Ready?” Tina breathed.

“For our sins,” Watson muttered.

“Goldstein, I’m warning you-” Rogers began, but Tina did not have the time for it. She concentrated with all her might and forced herself forward, through the tear.

It was like apparition, she always thought; but apparition, in comparison, seemed accommodatingly stretchy. Apparition was merely being squeezed; this wasn’t so much a squeezing as a _crushing_ : her organs compressed, her eyes bulged, her lungs were utterly incapacitated. Only the sheer force of will kept her squirming forwards through the path of least resistance that Grindelwald’s passage had left behind.

And then it was over, and they were gasping in clear, clean, blessed air and stumbling over one another in relief. Tina staggered a few steps, pressing a hand to her head- but both she and her companions were all (miraculously) in one piece, if not entirely comfortable. Rogers was doubled over, retching; Watson was leaning beside him, eyes glazed; Stanhope had a fist pressed to her mouth. Tina empathised with all three of them, which was a first.

“Everyone OK?” Tina asked, when she was sure her voice wouldn’t shake too bad.

Rogers ignored her question, straightening up with the look of a man who was trying to prove to his friends a lack of drunkenness that was astonishingly evident.

“Where the hell are we?” He rasped, and Tina suddenly realised that this was a very good question. She wasn’t sure what she had expected: perhaps a bustling city, or a dank cellar, or a mouldering castle, but stretching as far as she could see was-

“We haven’t, fucking, _moved_ ,” Watson panted, and Tina’s heart jolted with horror.

No, he _wasn’t_ right. The landscape had changed- they now stood on a steep slope, and there were more huge boulders scattered around them. But the green, silent, sopping trees were all the same. Exactly the same. Not even the weather had changed.

Tina looked up just as Rogers rounded on her.

“What did you do?” He hissed, and Tina instinctively raised her hands as he advanced. There was the sound of a branch breaking underfoot.

“I- this should be where Grindelwald apparated to,” Tina said, firm in her convictions despite their surroundings.

“ _Really_?” Rogers glared at her. He was a big man- Tina was not easily intimidated, but she was glad she had her wand on her. Another branch cracked as he advanced.

“ _Rogers_ -” Stanhope said, and she wasn’t simply warning him to exercise caution- the fear in her voice connected with the bolt of understanding that had just struck Tina. She spun around. Rogers spluttered.

“ _Quiet_ ,” Tina muttered, her eyes scanning the trees beyond. _Because Rogers had only been treading on moss_.

They had the briefest of reprieves. The briefest of seconds when time seemed to slow, stretch out, like a horrific recurring nightmare of being balanced on some terrifying precipice. Vertigo.

The first jet of light flies from between the trees; and everything falls back into motion.

Tina decides there are five of them, after two minutes of fierce battling between the leaves and tree trunks. Grindelwald doesn’t appear to be among them; at least, Tina hasn’t caught that gleam of blonde hair. Instead, she sees the slight warp of light that hints at a disillusioned limb flashing past, and grits her teeth in frustration.

“ _Finite Incantatem_!” She yells, because her spells generally come out more potent if she voices them, and a figure becomes visible, ducking behind a boulder.

“Nice one!” Watson shouts, apparently forgetting his opposition to Tina in the heat of the moment, and barely ten seconds later Stanhope reveals another one using the same spell. It helps, a little. At least they have more to aim at.

The frustrating thing is, they should be winning. No matter how skilled, any ordinary wizard should be outmatched by Aurors, even if they have the advantage of numbers. But this little group resist, resist, resist…

Tina hasn’t duelled this much in months. Her spell work has always been her strong-suit, but she was, if not out of practice, certainly less sharp than she would have liked. And she was tired from the apparition tracking, and her reflexes seemed ever-so-slightly dulled by the trauma of the past few hour, and she was fighting alongside three strangers, which made coordinating enchantment versus protection difficult.

It could only have been minutes, yet the fighting seemed to drag on and on. One of their opponents was lying on the ground, stunned, but the others proved increasingly difficult to pin down, and unlikely to give up or retreat. If they were back in New York, and Tina were in charge of their little band, she might have given the order to disapparate and regroup- but she was not, and anyway, the idea that Grindelwald might be close fanned the flames of her anger and drove her on.

What happened next was not her fault.

Indeed, she could never say with any certainty what had precisely happened: whether an enemy spell had simply slipped through the net of shield charms, or whether a jinx from her own side had backfired- but there it was. There was the sensation of being clubbed sharply around the back of the head, the brief thought of _Stunner_ , and then darkness crashing up over her head and swallowing her whole.

 

**

 

Tina woke to the taste of blood in her mouth, and a splitting pain on the right hand side of her head. There was a brief, brief moment before she remembered- and then she frantically forced her eyes open, listening for the shouts, for the sounds of spells ricocheting and rebounding and finding their mark-

Nothing.

Nothing moved, even as her eyes tracked across every inch of slanted landscape. She was still lying- well, exactly where she fell, she thought, the silent trees stretching up towards patches of iron grey sky. But there was not a soul around. Her wand was still in her hand- but all other evidence that there had been a duel had utterly vanished. Where the hell was everybody?

Tina gradually pushed herself into a sitting position, her arms shaking slightly with the effort (one of the myriad irritating side-effects of being stunned- muscles that turned to water for several hours afterwards), and raised a wobbly wand arm.

“ _Homenum Revelio_ ,” She muttered, performing a cursory swooping motion, and waited with bated breath.

Again, nothing.

Tina took as deep a breath as she could manage, and ignored the panic welling up inside of her. Instead, she raised her wand again, cast a surrounding shield charm, and began cataloguing her injuries: grazed palms that stung like doxy venom, a split lip (that, at least, explained the taste of blood- she washed her mouth out using Aguamenti and carried on), and, to her _delight_ , what felt like a fairly severe head injury, which accounted for the sharp pain in the side of her skull. Tina knew the basic healing spells that they’d been taught in basic training, and she went through them all patching herself up. The end result still wasn’t perfect, but it would have to do- at least, she was well enough to make it back to London. If London was where she was going, and Tina was still very much undecided on that matter.

She stood up, only a little wobbly now, and started examining the area. There were only three possibilities: the British Aurors had been overpowered and captured; the British Aurors had been overpowered and killed; or (and this caused her a great deal of disquiet), they had retreated. Leaving her behind. She scanned the ground, searching for footprints, hex marks, anything that would give her clues- but even the opponent they had stunned had disappeared. She supposed she could attempt apparition tracking again, but doubted that she had the strength for it. The fight and her injuries had exhausted her, and the light was fading. Tina did not want to be caught unawares. After the briefest hesitation, she turned on the spot, wand clutched tightly in her hand, and vanished.

She almost lost her footing when she reappeared, the pebbles shifting treacherously under her feet, but she regained her balance and looked around. Thankfully, she was where she had intended: on the shoreline of the great loch that bordered the woods to the north. Spending the night in the oppressive quiet of the trees had not seemed very appealing- at least out here, a brisk wind cut across the surface of the water, and there was the sound of birdsong.

Tina made the best of it. She cast every protective charm she could think of, then sparked a magical fire with some driftwood she’d found at the edge of the loch. Every second that passed, she was forced to fight her doubts more: doubts that her companions were even now safely back in London, or that they were shivering, bound and imprisoned in some foul cave, or that they were dead and their bodies transfigured or vanished, doubts that her protective charms would not hold, doubts that at that very moment Grindelwald himself would come looming out of the dark trees and fling her lifeless body into the cold waters beyond.

Tina was also an Auror, so she did not let these fears make her anything more than cautious, keeping one eye on the woods and one eye on the swiftly fading far shore, prodding the fire with her wand to ensure it kept burning. She also reassured herself, over and over again, that she had made the most logical choice. If the other Aurors were still here, then it was up to her to try to find them, at the very least. If they were dead, then she owed it to their families to discover exactly what had happened. If they were back in London- well, one night in the cold wouldn’t hurt her.

It was cold, bone-chillingly so- the kind of cold Tina remembered from her childhood winters, before she’d spent them snug in the dorm rooms at Ilvermorny. She cast a heating charm on her coat, and that helped, and the fire was enough to keep the worst of it off. When the night had well and truly settled around her, Tina lay down carefully on the stony shore with a cushioning charm to protect her from the rocks, and promised herself a few hours of sleep. Tracking Grindelwald alone and in the dark was only asking for trouble…

 

She jerked awake. It was still pitch dark- her fire was nothing more than a glowing heap of embers. Tina blinked furiously to rid the red shapes from her eyes and peered out, trying to see what had woken her. In the space between one breath and the next, she heard the soft crunch of pebbles shifting. A breath. Another crunch. Someone was walking slowly, cautiously, up the beach towards her.

Tina could not think of a spell that would mask her own movements- her only reassurance was that the diffracting enchantment she had cast over her little campsite should hide both her and the remains of her fire from prying eyes. She listened carefully. It sounded like just one person, moving with a cautious, stealthy tread. Tina’s heart beat harder. A plan was forming in her mind.

Outside her protective enchantments, the intruder drew steadily nearer. Tina was poised, on the ground but ready to spring upright, the incantation poised on her lips until the last possible second. They were mere feet away…

“ _Lumos Maxima_!” Tina cried, and leapt to her feet as light blazed from the tip of her wand, shielding her eyes with one hand. There was a yelp of surprise, one that snagged in Tina’s brain-

Her eyes finally adjusted, and she raised her wand, ready to cast a curse or binding spell on the figure who had staggered back at the sudden brightness. But she froze.

Even with his face screwed up- oh, Tina would know that face anywhere. Her stomach swooped unpleasantly.

In an instant, she had her wand held to the imposter’s throat.

“Who are you?” She hissed, as the man who _could_ _not_ be Newt Scamander blinked down at her, “And what have you done with Newt Scamander?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I love hearing what you think, particularly now we've seen Tina in combat. ALSO, I will accept the film incarnation of Grindelwald over my dead body. In this fic, he's just an older version of the merry-faced youth we met in our beloved franchise. If any of you are wondering about 'apparition tracking', I like to think that the International Confederation of Wizards outlaw it in the 1950s because it's so dangerous, but it does work, providing you're strong enough and the person you're following hasn't apparated too far.


	3. A Very Awkward Question

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the lakeshore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's still alive and boogying... This writer!  
> I have an exam tomorrow. Might die. Might not.  
> Anyway I really hope you enjoy this and thank you to everyone who's been so patient with this story. I simply can't handle update schedules but I'm writing as much as I can whilst making sure it's still of a standard that you'll hopefully enjoy! Hugs/preferred comforting gesture to all.

The man who was decidedly _not_ Newt Scamander raised his hands cautiously into the air, blinking wide pale eyes in the wandlight.

“Gracious,” He said, sounding rather overwhelmed. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

Tina glared.

“Who are you,” She repeated “And why are you impersonating Newt Scamander?”

“Impersonating?” Not-Newt stared at her. “No, definitely me.”

Their voices were little louder than a whisper, but they filled Tina’s ears louder than a roar. _How could it possibly be him?_

There was a pause, as Tina raked her eyes over the lanky figure before her. He certainly recognised her- _but it couldn’t be_. Her heart was hammering.

“I can _assure_ you, Miss Goldstein, I’m not an imposter,” Newt said, and a trace of urgency crept into his quiet, hesitant voice, “And I’d be most grateful if you would lower your wand.”

Whenever Tina got that little spiel in New York (which was often; criminals were not usually inclined to tell her the truth) she would tell them, coolly, that that was precisely what an imposter would say- but something held her back.

“Prove it,” She clipped out the words with her tongue, voice barely louder than a breath.

Not-Newt blinked. A flurry of expressions chased over his face: alarm, bemusement, and something Tina could not quite identify.

“Well, the first time we met, you arrested me.” He flung that crooked, almost-smile at her as though he couldn’t quite help it. “That evening, your sister cooked strudel, and I was rather rude and disregarded your hospitality to go chasing after my erumpent. Ah- you and your sister sang your school song, down in my case.”

Tina knew, then, but she wasn’t quite prepared to lower her wand.

“What was it about?” She asked, and her voice had lost some of its sharp edges. She wondered if Newt could tell. Probably.

Newt, however, was peering around into the darkness beyond the bright light.

“Some nonsense about Ilvermorny being the greatest wizarding school in the world, no doubt,” He said, absently, and Tina was finally, utterly convinced.

A great wave of emotion rushed through her. Newt Scamander really _was_ here, standing two feet in front of her with half his hair on end and greenery caught in his collar. She could not think of a single thing to say, or do.

Abruptly, she lowered her wand.

“Thank you,” Newt sighed, tension bleeding from his shoulders.

“What- what are you doing here?” Tina fumbled over her words, unable to stop staring.

At her question, Newt ducked his head; Tina got the distinct impression he was very, very reluctant to say. That little hesitant motion was all it took to remind her that she was, in fact, _furious_ with him.

“You’re not filling me with confidence, Mr Scamander,” She hissed.

Newt half-raised his head.

“I-”

But he jerked to a halt. He looked as though he had heard something, out there in the pitch-black night. Then, before Tina could even blink, he had seized her arm and apparated away.

As soon as she could breathe again, Tina wrenched herself out of Newt’s grip. Darkness still surrounded them, and the light cast from Tina’s wand swooped and danced over the surroundings of trees and other gloomy shapes.

“What the _hell_ was that?!”

Newt held up his hands in what Tina had come to realise was a placating gesture, and it needled her that she could remember it so well.

“My, sincerest apologies, Miss Goldstein. These woods are _not_ safe places to attract unwanted attention.”

Tina remembered the day she had had, and her stomach dropped like a stone. Newt’s hair had fallen over his eyes; he peered through it to focus on her, his skin bleached a ghostly white as the circle of wandlight rested once more on his face.

“Grindelwald?” Tina spoke his name on a short breath. Newt flinched back as though struck. There was a brief, shocked silence.

“It’s worse than I thought,” He muttered, and his pronouncement was bleak. He finally pushed his hair back (and, thank Merlin, Tina’s fingers stopped itching with the irrational urge to do it for him).

“Where are we?” Tina asked, more firmly. She was trying to gain some purchase on the situation, and so far, failing utterly.

“Still in Rannoch,” Newt answered, still looking perturbed. “My case is, ah- just up that tree. I’ve been keeping it off the ground, just in case.”

The wandlight flickered wildly as Tina threw her hands out in a despairing gesture. She had had a _very_ long day, and the final straw was that apparently, her chance of safety and relative comfort resided in the branches of a tree. Newt pulled a face that might have been apologetic.

“It’s not that hard a climb.”

Tina huffed, and marched forwards. No matter what had happened; what strange and awful and downright unnatural events had occurred, she was _not_ about to be defeated in front of Newt Scamander.

~~~

“Tea?”

“Please.”

In the case, things were never totally silent: there was always the gentle babble of creatures and shifting weather in the background. Tina had not realised she had missed it; but as she sat on the wooden steps of Newt’s shed and looked around her, she felt such a pang go through her that she wondered if she would cry. A mooncalf bounced across the central space and chirruped.

“I’m sorry,” Tina told it, “I don’t have anything for you.”

The mooncalf’s luminous eyes widened, and it chirruped again. A small smile pushed at the corners of Tina’s lips.

From behind her, there came the sound of a crash and a hastily muffled curse, and Tina twisted hastily around. Through the open door, she could see Newt sucking on his fingers as the kettle poured out a torrent of steam. He noticed her staring and dropped his hand, assuming a rather mulish expression.

“Travelling kettle,” He said, by way of explanation. “It’s rather temperamental.”

_Even his kettle requires taking care of_ , Tina mused, and wondered if she should go in and help as Newt fussed with the bottles crowding the shelves mounted on the walls. There was another crash, this time of glass shattering on the floor. Tina got to her feet.

“What are you looking for?” Her voice wasn’t particularly friendly, but then again she wasn’t feeling particularly friendly, so she supposed it was at least accurate. Newt frowned.

“Ah- cooling solution. Or dittany.”

Tina turned her back on him and began to search through the vault of various potions, distillations and venoms.

“Does anything else in here bite?” She asked, dryly.

“I don’t think so. At least- not unless you provoke it.”

Was that humour there? Tina thought so, but she couldn’t be sure without seeing his face. Apparently it hadn’t been just the case she had missed. Of course she had missed _Newt_ ; but she’d thought it was a mere infatuation, a little dose of longing. She had not expected the sound of his halting, husky voice to send small shivers across her back. Her fingers closed over the dittany bottle.

“Here.” She held it out so she would not have to dress his burn herself. Cowardly, maybe, but she knew her limits, and patching up Newt Scamander’s wounds when she was in this state was definitely beyond her. Newt nodded his thanks. On the workbench, the kettle whistled.

“So,” Tina began, whilst Newt was distracted, “Why are you here?” She crossed her arms and stared at him.

Newt paused as he dabbed at his fingertips.

“I’m not certain you’ll believe me,” He said, eventually, and Tina snorted.

“The last time we met, you set a sentient mop that liked diamonds loose in a muggle bank, lost a giant blue dragon that fitted into a teapot in a department store and let an erumpent go ice-skating in Central Park.”

_And then you left and disappeared and never wrote me one single word_. Tina pushed the thought away; it was ridiculous and unhelpful and, at that moment, even more infuriating than every other offence put together.

Even so, when Newt cracked a smile, Tina’s heart jumped.

“It was an occamy, actually. But yes, I suppose there is that.”

Silence fell between them once more. The kettle had finally stopped steaming.

“I- I don’t know how much you know about- about British magic,” He said, peering cautiously at her. “European magic, really. The thing is, it all comes from creatures we called- call- the Fair Folk. Or the fey, sometimes. That’s why I’m here.”

Tina did not understand.

“The Fair Folk?”

Newt nodded.

“Fairies?”

“Absolutely not.” Newt shook his head like a dog with water in its ears. “Fairies are quite different. Silly little things, really. The fey are _much_ more dangerous. They were here before us, and they’ve never forgotten it.”

Tina could feel her eyebrows creasing. Her frosty demeanour was forgotten in the face of new information.

“I don’t-”

“We’re descended from them, Tina. Every single European witch or wizard has fey blood in their veins- you almost certainly do, too.”

Tina, once again, was speechless. Newt carried on, staring at a spot on the wall, his voice almost grim.

“Back before people ever came to these woods, the fey were here. They’re as much a part of the land as the trees and the water. And they’re far more untrustworthy than either.”

“So, you’re here looking for these- Fair Folk?” Tina asked, carefully. Never mind she had never even heard of such a thing- if Newt was lying to her, she would find out soon enough.

“Not exactly.” Newt looked up again, then abruptly changed the subject. “Have you ever heard that muggles believe unicorns can grant wishes?”

Tina nodded. She had heard that myth, probably from when she was little and their grandma would tell her and Queenie stories.

“Well, they’re wrong, of course. But that’s because muggles aren’t very good at recognising magic. Such a creature _does_ exist.”

Tina could not help the expression of disbelief that wrote itself all over her face; Newt glanced at her and frowned.

“I know,” He said, “It sounds ridiculous.”

“Wishes?” Tina screwed up her face in incredulity.

Newt flattened his mouth into a line and gave a small nod.

“It belongs to the fey,” He said, after apparently judging Tina would not explode at that precise moment. “I don’t even think it has a name in English; although it appears to our eyes as a white stag.”

Tina gave up asking questions. A wave of tiredness smashed into her, along with a creeping, horrible realisation. She dropped her hands away and stood back.

“I suppose that’s why Grindelwald’s here,” She said, in a quiet little voice, “Looking for this creature.”

“Yes. I would think so.”

Newt carefully put the bottle back on the counter and reached cautiously out to grasp the kettle.

“Tea?”

Tina could only nod.

~~~

Newt showed her to a small room tucked _underneath_ the shed (was there no limit to the man’s determination with undetectable extension charms?) and left her to bunk down with a fleeting grin and a familiar duck of the head. An awful tautness seemed to stretch between them, though whether it was down to the danger or the separation or the unasked questions, Tina did not know. And given that she was finally in a place of safety, she was less inclined to care. She stripped off her jacket (grimacing at the stains) and lay down on the lumpy mattress with a sigh of gratitude that could probably be heard in the erumpent paddock. Within seconds, she was asleep.

~~~

A knocking sound woke her. It took her some time to realise the sound was coming from the ceiling, which was when she remembered Newt showing her the trapdoor in the floor of the shed- last night? This morning? She had no way of telling, and she sat bolt upright.

“Yes?” She called. The knocking stopped.

“There’s breakfast,” Newt called, “If you like that sort of thing.”

Tina nearly smiled.

“I’ll be up in a minute,” She answered, then set about making herself presentable.

Tina emerged into the shed with her hair magically flattened and most of the marks on her clothes erased, which was as good as it was probably going to get. Newt was nowhere to be seen, but outside the case had sprung to life. Soft golden light, mimicking that of the sun, bathed the brown earth and green fronds, as familiar (and not so familiar) creatures trundled and buzzed and frolicked through their home. Tina peered round the jamb, then looked around the shed.

“Mr Scamander?”

Newt’s head appeared from behind a wooden screen, tucked in the shadows at the back of the room.

“Good morning.” His tone was polite. “I’ve fried some eggs- I hope that will be serviceable.”

Tina could feel her expression softening.

“They’re not going to make me levitate or something?” She asked, dry humour suffusing her words, and Newt smiled that smug, secretive grin that must have infuriated every teacher unfortunate enough to be tasked with educating him.

“Ah, no. You’re quite safe.”

Tina nodded, and reached for the skillet.

They ate on the steps, plates balanced on their knees, occasionally swatting away the affectionate interest of various creatures. Tina could not bring herself to look at Newt. The unsaid things between them were swelling with every second that slid past; filling up her lungs, constricting her throat before she could even think of what to say. The gentle surprise of the first moments of the morning had dissolved. Now, questions and accusations and furious things were clamouring for attention. _Months, Newt, and not one single word-!_ It did not help that in the week Newt had remained in New York, they had often sat together like this: for Tina’s reinstatement at MACUSA had not been instantaneous, and it had made a wonderful kind of sense to spend more time in the magical, gilded light of the case. No, remembering that did not help at all.

But as astonishing and natural as that time had seemed, Tina was no longer that woman. She was braver, bolder and tougher than she had ever thought possible. She had never been the sort to pine, anyway. She had outgrown that old skin. So, when she was done with her eggs, she laid down her fork and sat up.

“Why didn’t you write?”

She was grateful for the sun: she had to screw up her face, so her feelings couldn’t write themselves across her expression. Newt paused.

“I wasn’t sure how I’d be received,” He said, carefully, his gaze fixed on his knees. Tina could feel her eyes widening in exasperation.

“You doubted me? After-?” She could not find words to describe all that had passed between them: not even _everything_ seemed sufficient.

Newt appeared to look a little ashamed.

“So,” Tina took a deep breath, “You weren’t sure of my- well, you didn’t think-”

Newt slid his eyes sideways to look at her as she fumbled, and she resolved to wipe the burgeoning smile off his face.

“Anyway, you thought the best solution to this was to ignore me? For _months_?”

The germ of a grin disappeared.

“When you put it like that,” Newt admitted, after a brief silence, “It was rather foolish of me.”

Tina placed her plate on the floor and folded her hands together.

“Yes. Yes, it was.”

The Asiatic fire sloth chirruped. A semi-bird apparated a few feet away with a puff of feathers.

“I’m sorry, Tina,” Newt said, very softly, “I wanted to write. But I wasn’t-”

“You weren’t sure of what to say,” Tina finished. Newt looked up once more.

“Yes. That’s exactly it.”

“You could have told me about your book.” Tina could not help the slight tone of admonishment that crept into her voice. “How _is_ your book coming along?”

Newt seemed surprised by the change of topic, but he recovered quickly. “Ah, the publishers took some convincing, but I won them round in the end.”

“Of course you did,” Tina’s anger had all but gone.

“It’s due to be published next month. I _was_ going to bring you a copy.” The slight hurt in his voice spoke of his promise to her on the docks of New York, and Tina ignored the way her heart jumped around to hear it.

“Well,” She said, standing up, “You still can. If we ever get out of this mess.” She stooped to pick up her plate.

Newt was looking at her with that calculating expression, as though he was trying to see through the layers and patterns of the world to decipher some hidden message.

“Am I- I don’t wish to be rude, but have you forgiven me?”

Tina remembered that, too: his quite astonishing frankness. She pressed her lips together as she considered her response.

“For now,” She eventually said, and lapsed into a faint smile, “But don’t push your luck, Mr Scamander.”

Newt’s answering smile flickered so quickly she almost missed it.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” He said, as he got up to follow her back inside.

~~~

Newt needed water for his creatures, and Tina wanted water for her toilette, so they cautiously ventured up the ladder in single file, pausing as Newt cast a concealment charm out through the lid that would hopefully hide them from unwanted eyes.

“Watch your head,” Newt warned, as he scrambled up before Tina, “Bit damp up here.”

A bit damp was an understatement: the rain was lashing down, and Tina barely got her shield charm up in time. It was exposed up on the tree-branch, and the wind was fiercely cold. Tina wrapped her jacket tighter around her shoulders and shivered.

“This is supposed to be spring?” She asked, and Newt shrugged.

“Scotland,” He replied, as though that explained everything. “Hold on-” He pulled his shield down briefly and made a sweeping gesture, “- _Homenum Revelio_.”

The spell revealed nothing, and Newt seemed to relax a little. He held out his arm, cautiously, to Tina. “The stream’s not far. I always try to camp near a water source.”

“Can’t we just leave the lid of the case open?” Tina joked. She wondered if she should offer her umbrella to Newt, but that would bring him awfully close, and she wasn’t sure she wanted that just yet. Anyway, he was more than capable of casting his own charm. Never mind that his hair was frizzing rather spectacularly with all the moisture, giving him the appearance of a slightly frazzled ginger lion. _Absolutely_ never mind that.

Thinking of anything else, Tina reached out and gripped his arm, and they whirled away.

They landed in a shadowy dell, where clear water gurgled around brown, mossy rocks and the raindrops plunked heavily into the surface, casting ripples wherever they looked.

“Newt?” Tina asked, as Newt crouched down at the edge of the stream and began rummaging in his pocket. “How did you get so good at apparating?”

After all, apparition wasn’t what you could call popular. They had compulsory training in the practice as Aurors, of course, but most magic folk still preferred other modes of transport: ones that (generally) left your body parts intact.

Newt did not answer at first: Tina was watching the forest, wand up, so she couldn’t see his face.

“It was a dare,” He eventually said, “At school. To see who could- learn the fastest.”

Tina frowned. “That doesn’t sound very safe.” Apparition wasn’t taught in _school_.

Newt snorted.

“It wasn’t.”

He had found what he had been looking for: a small square of fabric, which he unfolded, then unfolded again, before opening up one end and placing it into the water. Tina turned away once more.

“Was that- the accident?” She forced herself to say it, even as the memory of that dark little cell with the white-coated mercy-givers holding fast to her arm swelled up again.

“No.” Newt’s voice was so quiet that she could barely hear it over the water. “That wasn’t it.”

Tina knew that asking any more would invite trouble, so she lapsed into silence as the container slowly filled.

They didn’t speak again until they had apparated, once more, to the case. As Tina carefully pulled the lid shut above her head (and finally released her shield charm- this rain was something she could do without), Newt carefully lowered the water to the floor and looked up at her.

“Thank you for coming with me,” He said, seriously.

Tina understood what he was trying to say, and relieved him of having to find the words.

“We’re a team,” She said, carefully taking the last few steps down the ladder. “I’ll watch your back, and you can watch mine.”

A spasm seemed to flick across Newt’s face at her words: but then he was ducking his head and smiling again, and Tina could barely remember seeing any discomfort at all.

“So, we water the creatures.”

Newt nodded.

“And then we go out looking.”

“Looking for the fey?”

Newt’s eyes gleamed.

“Or we let them find us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you thought of these two fools finally getting to interact! I love all your feedback whether it's kudos or subscription or comments <3
> 
> (I'm headcanoning that apparition is pretty unpopular up until the second half of the twentieth century, when refinements are made to the technique that make it slightly easier to master. And guess who got the no-apparition spell put in place at Hogwarts...)
> 
> Tumblr: itscooltobefanficy

**Author's Note:**

> I would love to know what you thought! I'm afraid I don't really have a regular update schedule and I have several fics on the go, but I will try to update as soon as I possibly can.


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